Prisoner
by Hoobajoo
Summary: A terrorist wakes up tied to a chair in an FBI interrogation room. He is bitten and dying and hiding an important secret about the zombie plague. Using lies and mind games, Agent Johnson tries to get him to talk... ONESHOT. Rated M for language.


PRISONER

My head is swimming, my leg hurts, there's a bright light in front of me burning into my eyes and I don't know where I am.

"Wake up, fucker." A voice cuts into me from behind the light, angry and filled with contempt.

I struggle, but I am bound. My arms and legs are tied to a small wooden chair and my hands are tingling from pins and needles.

I am naked.

"Hey!" someone yells at me. My vision is clearing and I can see better. I can see a desk in front of me, the bright light that's shining at me is a lamp and it's pointed right at me. I can see a set of hands leaning onto the desk next to the light, a pair of arms attached to them, black sleeves from a dark suit disappearing into the darkness behind the lamp where I can't see.

INTERROGATOR

Finally, the little terrorist prick is coming to. Time to get to work.

I step forward from behind the lamp, stepping around the desk towards him, but he simply hangs his head staring at the floor through his long black hair, pretending to ignore me. I slap him hard across the face to get his attention. He flinches slightly but continues to stare at the floor.

PRISONER

My cheek stings, but I don't care. I have information he wants, but he won't get it out of me.

He leans in towards me and I can see him better. He's wearing a white shirt underneath a black suit with a red tie. His shoes are almost unnaturally shiny. His hair is brown and slicked back, his eyes hidden behind black sunglasses. He is a robot to me. Just another FBI agent. He has no name. I don't care.

INTERROGATOR

"Hello, Michael." I whisper into his ear, trying to freak him out a bit, hinting that I might give a kiss or a lick, make him feel like he's locked in a room with a creepy pervert. I have to get him to fear me to start with. Then I will play good cop. "My name is Agent Johnson. You belong to me."

I step back behind my desk and dip the lamp down, taking the stinging light out of his eyes. He blinks and looks up to see where he is, but I wrench the lamp back up into his face and blind him with the hot light again. He groans.

"You have information I want. By the time I'm done with you, you will give it to me readily. This is an interrogation room. Sound-proof. No one will hear you scream and no one is here to help you." I step back behind the lamp, disappearing into the shadows. "You are alone…….. with me."

PRISONER

I hate the light, even when I close my eyes and try to look away, the light is so bright it still stings through my eyelids. All I can see is red. It's hot too. My skin is sweating and I am very thirsty. I can bear this.

I must appear like a dumb person. A vegetable. Non-responsive. He must not know what I know. I must be strong.

My release, my death will come soon.

INTERROGATOR

Time to play good cop. I soften my voice, appear reasonable. "OK, Michael. Here's how this is going to work. I am going to ask you some questions. If you answer my questions truthfully, I will let you die with dignity. I won't let you turn and you can go up to whatever heaven you aspire to."

I pause for effect, still hiding in the shadows behind the lamp, he is sweating. He is nervous. "But if you answer falsely, if you lie to me, I will hurt you before you turn. There are many punishments I can….. bequeath unto you."

PRISONER

He refers to the bite on my leg. I see the tear in my jeans and the blood seeping out and absorbing into the cloth. The zombie bit me hard before they captured me. It will be my salvation. Whatever happens, I will die and become one of those zombies before he could ever dream of getting me to talk.

He thinks I'm a terrorist, that I worship Allah or something. That I will die a martyr because I want to go to heaven and fuck virgins for eternal life or some such. Foolish man. He knows nothing of me.

This is not about religion.

I worship no god.

But he doesn't know that.

He doesn't even know my name is not Michael.

INTERROGATOR

I can see his face is blank. He's put on his shell, pretending to ignore me.

Time to get to work on him.

Set the context.

"3 hours ago, you, with four others who are now dead, helped steal a bio-weapon from a secret US Military bio-weapons facility. You were captured after you managed to deliver the pathogen to another contact and now you are here. Here is my first question for you, Michael. Why?"

PRISONER

I smirk, this is a question I am happy to answer. I raise my head and stare straight into the hot light. Defiant.

"Because when everyone dies, we will take over. We will rule what remains."

I am sure he is shocked as he hears the cold and callous nature of my statement.

INTERROGATOR

Alright, first question worked. Confirms what we already know, but he doesn't know that. Let's give him another question we already know the answer to.

"Michael, how did you infiltrate the facility and get hold of this weapon? Who was your inside man?"

PRISONER

He is already dead by now. May as well tell him. They cannot get to him. I will toy with him first. I must get him to lose his temper.

"Your mother." I giggle. Always wanted to say that to one of these guys.

INTERROGATOR

Cute. He is trying to get me to get angry and lash out at him. To kill him.

"Strike one, two more before I inflict some pain. Answer me truthfully." I reply simply.

"Cathy Strongman. Your partner." He says, smiling at me, even though I know he can't see me.

He doesn't know that Cathy was working undercover and almost stopped them. I know it was Roger Goreman, one of the security technicians at the facility. He had been bought off.

Let this guy think I believe him.

"Interesting. She's dead now. One of the many personnel at the facility who were infected and turned. Alright then, third question: where is the virus now?"

PRISONER

Aaah, the money question. I will not answer him.

He asks again, his voice more forceful. I don't care. I stay silent.

I can hear his shoes slide against the tiled floor, stepping towards me, but still hidden behind the light as I slacken and stare down at my wound again. It burns….. it is a strange and unnatural sensation. I don't like it.

I hear his voice again, "Michael…. I have some bad news for you. That's three strikes."

What?

INTERROGATOR

Ah hah! I caught him. He stares up at me now, surprised, as I step out from behind the desk and tilt the lamp down out of his eyes, the room bathed in a smooth yellow glow, shadows creeping along the floor.

He stares up at me, confusion on his face. "Michael, you've been lying to me. 1. The inside man was not my mother."

His face relaxes a little.

"2. I know the inside man was not Cathy."

His face opens in confusion again.

"3. I know your name is not Michael."

PRISONER

Fuck! He knows more than he lets on. He must know exactly who I am. Shit!

No no, calm down. Put your blank face back on. It doesn't matter.

INTERROGATOR

Got him.

Now he knows that I know more than he thought. I have to let him know who is in control.

"Crossfire666, that's your internet alias isn't it?" he doesn't react, he simply stares down at his bleeding leg again. Time to get things moving. "My friend…." I lean down, sitting on the desk and whisper in his ear. "your plan will not work. I have means to make sure that leg wound will not turn you into a zombie."

I hear his breathing, it stops at the news and quickens suddenly.

"Liar!" he snarls back at me.

I whisper again, "You took the disease, but you left the cure behind at the facility."

He turns and looks me straight in the eye, shocked.

PRISONER

Cure? There is no cure!! There can't be!!

He leans into me, his nose almost touching mine and says, "You don't think we would develop a virus so destructive without developing a cure, do you?" he says, smiling at me, relishing my surprise.

Fuck! No one said there was a cure! This changes everything!

INTERROGATOR

Good. He believes me. He thinks there's a cure. I rub it in.

"Even if your organisation releases the pathogen into the water supply, causing an epidemic, we will blanket the country in a cloud of anti-virus. Sure, lots of people will die before we can act, but not nearly as many as you would hope for. Your plan is fucked."

He's panicking.

Good.

PRISONER

There can't be a cure. Goreman said there was no such thing! He must be lying!

Fuck!

I still must keep my mouth shut. I must not divulge any more.

"Phillip Ulrich." He mumbles at me. Fuck! He knows my real name! "I have your family in the next room."

INTERROGATOR

I love this. His blank face façade is cracking. I can see his jugular vein bulge in his neck as he struggles to contain himself.

Time to sink the nails in, "Your mother, sister and brother are in the next room. Your mother has been injected with the virus." He looks at me shocked and angry. "Tell me where the virus is now and I will give the order for her to be injected with the anti-virus before she turns and eats your brother and sister alive."

He looks like he's going to throw up.

PRISONER

No! This is fucked! Alshi was supposed to take them to Europe and keep them safe! That fucker! He sold them in!

No wait! Think this through….. is he bluffing?

INTERROGATOR

He's relaxing… he doubts me. Time to let him "talk to them".

"You don't believe me? Here… " I reach into my pocket and pull out my mobile phone. I flip it open and select the audio track we recorded and compiled before from her personal calls. I place the phone next to his ear, the sweat dripping from his hair down the phone's casing. "Talk to her."

He leans it to listen. Gerry in the next room is ready on the computer to prompt the correct responses from a bank of previous conversations we have recorded.

PRISONER

I hear the phone ringing and click. I hear my mother's voice. "Hello?"

"Mum, are you alright? Where are you?" I reply. Goddamn, she better be alright.

"I'm fine dear, Sally and Bert are with me." I hear her voice fade as she speaks away from the phone on the other end, "It's Phillip!" I hear her say excitedly.

"Where are you, did the FBI kidnap you?"

"No No! Don't be silly. I'm just at the doctor's…….. What's wrong?"

Her voice sounds strange. I'm going to check something, I sing down the line "Mom, it's OK. I just called….. to say….."

"What's goi-" The FBI agent snaps the phone closed at my ear and puts in back in his pocket.

"Now…." He mutters softly. "are you going to co-operate?"

INTERROGATOR

I sit on the desk and look down at him, my arms folded. I need to look impatient, like a headmaster awaiting an explanation from a pupil for why he broke a window or something.

He's taking his time. What was that singing shit?

PRISONER

That wasn't my Mom.

When I say 'I just called to say', she's supposed to say 'I love you' – lyrics from an old Stevie Wonder song. She loves that song.

This fucker's lying to me. The whole thing!

But he still thinks I believe him.

INTERROGATOR

He slumps down into his chair, the fringe of his overgrown and dirty hair almost touching his lap. "33/269 Morton Street. That's where they're staying." He says, defeated and tired.

I know that address. Cathy told us it was a safe house of some sort they used to use. She had never been there though.

Time to get these fuckers!

I turn to him and lay it all down for him. "There is no cure and we don't have your mother. And you're gonna die in the next 2 minutes when the virus gives you a heart attack. Enjoy!"

Haha, got 'im!

PRISONER

I start screaming at the top of my lungs, screaming obscenities at him. I will kill his mother, I will rape his children. Whatever disgusting things I can think of as he simply stands there and watches, smiling, thinking he has won.

He was not lying about my heart. I can feel it constrict and my chest burn and tighten. I am dying. I feel my heart and brain burning. I'm about to die….

INTERROGATOR

I've had enough of this guy. I watch him cough and die in his chair. I better get out of here before he turns into a zombie.

Just before I walk out the door, I check my cell phone and I freeze up.

33/269….. on my cell numberpad, that spells DECOY.

Bastard!

I turn and I see Phillip is struggling out of his chair, the ropes are slipping!

PRISONER

Where……. Where………

Meat!!

Yummy…..


End file.
